


interim

by haliyam



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Angst, F/M, Friendship, I'll add tags as they come, Manga Spoilers, Maybe a slow burn?, Romance, Season 4 Spoilers, Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan Manga Spoilers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-08
Updated: 2021-03-08
Packaged: 2021-03-15 00:34:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,647
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29925216
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/haliyam/pseuds/haliyam
Summary: You return to Liberio not long after the Warriors arrive home from their failed mission in Paradis and discover that things have changed. (Or they will, and maybe a little more with Zeke than you expect.)
Relationships: Zeke Yeager/Original Character(s), Zeke Yeager/Original Female Character(s), Zeke Yeager/Reader
Comments: 2
Kudos: 25





	interim

**Author's Note:**

> Hi everyone! This is part of the series I mentioned on my oneshot Asset, but it's a prequel. I'd love to continue the season 4 stuff, as in I am ITCHING to, but I want to see how the manga ends first so I can plot out Reader's part in it all. 
> 
> The Reader/OC will be a cis-female Eldian character with a set background, as you'll find at the end of this chapter. Reader’s default name is Lucy, just because I personally don’t like writing ‘Y/N,’ but please feel free to set the substitution for Lucy to you or your character’s First Name using the [InteractiveFics browser extension](https://chrome.google.com/webstore/detail/interactivefics/pcpjpdomcbnlkbghmchnjgeejpdlonli?hl=en)! So on the browser extension that would be:  
> Lucy = Your or your character's First Name.  
> Because reader will have a set background, you'll have a set surname as well.
> 
> Disclaimer: This is a Zeke/Reader story set in the AOT world, so it’s a romance with a guy who gleefully murdered a shit ton of innocent people and helped Marley level countries. Please don’t look to this story for a completely morally upright character/reader/OC who makes all the right choices. (Though expect that Reader will take them into consideration.)
> 
> I will say that Zeke may seem a little OOC/angsty in the beginning of this story, if only because Reader and Zeke were good friends before he became the shitstain we know today and Reader is fairly familiar with his true moods even when he is being annoying as hell. (And Zeke is annoying. I swear I do like this guy hahah...)
> 
> I hope you enjoy!

It’s strange how easily you fall into step with the soldier ahead of you. 

You don’t march, and your eyes wander stern walls and imposing doors that have long left your dreams, but your footfalls follow only one beat that echoes throughout the hallway as he leads you through it. There’s an almost comforting order to the sound that belies the way your heart tries to hammer its way through your ears or right out of your chest. 

It feels like forever and far too soon when you arrive at a familiar waiting room. Motioning to the chairs around a small round table, the soldier knocks twice on the door opposite where you entered. When no one responds, he simply stands there, and you have no recourse but to take that seat. 

Voices filter in, muffled, from the other room, and you slip your hands under the desk to squeeze your fingers together. Maybe this was a terrible idea after all. You can still leave, pursue your medical degree back home…

“No,” you whisper to yourself, even if you do abruptly stand from your chair. You just need a moment to freshen up. Facing the soldier, you begin, “I would like to—”

Alarm replaces the question in his gaze when two heavy knocks cut through your words. He stares at you a little longer, a new question, and you reply with a deep exhale. 

“Never mind.”

He nods. “They’re ready for you.”

You enter the conference room, which is far too large for the four people sitting at one end of the long table there: an older man with more lapel pins and crow’s feet than you remember, and three others closer to your age—the esteemed Warrior Unit and their commander, Theo Magath.

Six long years later, they all look different enough that under other circumstances, you might hesitate to recognize them. But you know this place all too well, the lighting and their seating arrangement so familiar that you can mistake them for no other than Zeke Yeager, Pieck Finger, and Porco Galliard. 

It soon appears from their expressionless gazes that they can’t say the same for you. Not that you can blame them—they had no reason to expect your arrival, and it’s Commander Magath who huffs at their frigid reception. “Is that how you Eldians treat old friends?”

The three glance at one another. You venture a small smile, and the recognition and surprise that sink into Zeke’s features make Magath snort as Pieck leaps from her chair, shattering the chill in the room as surely as she crashes into you with an embrace.

“Lucy!” 

The joy in her voice sweeps aside your initial fears and brings your excitement bubbling out of your throat in your own laughter. “Pieck!”

She’s talking before you even part and still holding onto the back of your blouse when you do. “You look so… old,” she grins. “That is— _me-_ old.” 

Her languid excitement makes it difficult for you to keep your composure. “I _am_ you-old,” you say, trying not to giggle, but your toothy smile already reaches from ear to ear. 

Before you can say more, Commander Magath clears his throat. “If you two are finished…”

Both of you freeze instinctively at his tone. Stealing another squeeze, Pieck steps aside as Magath rises from his chair. “Good of you to drop by, Blanchard.”

You quickly cross the distance to shake his proffered hand. “Thank you, Sir. And congratulations on your promotion.”

He shrugs, taking a seat and gesturing that you and Pieck do the same. “Still not a far cry from playing nursemaid sometimes.”

Pieck shakes her head. “Don’t say that, Sir.”

“You’re right. I’m at least a pay grade or two above nursemaid,” Magath chuckles just a little, and to his right, Zeke continues to stare at you. 

“Is that really you?” he asks, mouth set in a line under his new beard. 

“In the flesh.” His expression remains neutral through your nervous chuckle. Shifting in your seat, you nod away toward Porco. “It’s so nice to see everyone again. Galliard.”

Though he gave you an appreciative once-over as you entered, Porco is now as uninterested as they come. “I didn’t think you’d still know our names. Thanks for taking the time to drop by, I guess.”

“Oh, come on, Pock,” Pieck teases, ignoring the air of hostility that starts to surround you. As though Porco is only an unruly child, she says in feigned apology, “A few days with the Jaw and he’s already this cocky.”

“Ah.” You can’t bring yourself to mirror her mirth. “I heard about that. I’m sorry about Marcel. And Bertholdt—and Annie…”

Pieck glances away, and because you can’t meet Zeke’s eyes at the moment, you address the commander instead. “What about Reiner? I heard he’d returned.”

“Braun is still undergoing a debriefing.”

 _A debriefing_ , you think, _when they’ve been back a fortnight already?_ But it dawns on you easily enough that what Reiner is undergoing is an ideology test. Reindoctrination.

“I see… but…”

“It was on my recommendation,” Zeke cuts in, daring you, a civilian, to protest. His arms are crossed now. “Otherwise he’s in danger of passing on the Armor a full six years too early.”

“I only meant to say that Reiner is the most loyal Eldian I know,” you answer levelly, eyes boring into his. Your nails dig into the cloth of your skirt on your lap as you pretend not to hear Porco’s scoff. Taking the Armor from Reiner? The operation was a massive failure, but that consequence is far too severe... however expected. “After you, of course.”

Zeke tilts his head, obscuring his gaze from your view when the light above reflects off his glasses.

“It’s a good thing, in any case,” Magath explains. “Behind enemy lines for over five years, he—” 

Whatever his opinion, the commander abruptly stops himself from sharing it and clears his throat instead. You know better than to protest when an unsettling pause rests over the room—exactly what you feared would occur.

To your surprise, it’s Porco who comes to your rescue, even if his disdain is palpable. “Why are you here, anyway?” 

“Well,” you begin gratefully, “I’m—”

“I asked her to come,” says Magath, completely ignoring the tension. “But my meeting prior ran overlong, and I have another coming up. Can you come in tomorrow morning? Ten sharp?”

You sit up straight when he addresses you. “Of course, Sir.”

Magath smiles—still a novelty to you—and pushes himself up out of his chair. The rest of you do the same, following him to the door as he speaks. “Go ahead and catch up in the meantime. And Blanchard—it’s good to see you again. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Yes, Sir.”

“The rest of you—dismissed.”

He leaves the room with the Marleyan guard at the door. The other three let out a breath of relief once it closes. 

“Blanchard,” Porco enunciates, stretching his arms. “Are we really still doing that? Who are we supposed to be fooling here?”

Pieck sighs, but it’s Zeke who stays him with a light backhand to the stomach. “Settle down, Galliard.”

Porco pushes his hand away. “Seriously? Of all people, you—”

“Your first transformation was pretty brutal, Galliard,” Zeke casually announces. He winces for good measure, like he’s actually worried. “Why don’t you get some rest?”

The hostility on Porco’s face quickly shifts to embarrassment, and you feel for him. “You’ve transformed already?” 

“I wanted to go check on the Warriors anyway,” he says instead, eyeing you with a curled lip. “Nice seeing you again, _Blanchard_.”

“You too,” you call out, but he’s already stalked out of the room.

You feel Pieck’s hand loop around your arm. “Don’t take it personally,” she says gently. “Learning about Marcel was difficult for him.”

“I can only imagine.” She doesn’t turn when you glance over at her, only shaking her head, and you understand. Casting a more pleasant gaze around the room, you ask, “How are you two? I thought it might be nice if we could get some lunch together.” You check your watch. “...Very late lunch.”

“I would love to,” Pieck says cheerfully, leading your way out of the room— “Tomorrow. I still have so much paperwork to do.”

Zeke snickers. “The joys of working with a team.”

“Life is unfair,” Pieck declares, but smiles when her hand slips down to yours. “I’ll pick you up after your meeting with Magath tomorrow. It’s a date, right?”

You squeeze her fingers in return. “Definitely.”

Her leisurely footsteps fade down the hallway, and you soon find yourself alone with Zeke. You dust at your blouse idly, but you must eventually look at him. “I suppose it’s just you and me today, then.”

He only eyes you, scratching the side of his bearded jaw. It’s even worse than him outright declining.

“Unless,” you quickly add, detesting the dead air, “are you… training the new Warrior class?”

Zeke snorts. “No. I’ve been busy with other work, but you can check in on their progress if you’re interested. Seems like the Commander wouldn’t mind, seeing as he invited you here.”

You ignore the jab: _And you accepted_. “What’s kept you busy?”

“Good question.” His smile is a facetious one. “But you know that’s top secret.”

You scoff, but you were braver in front of the others. Now his indifference is too much to bear. 

It’s only after you turn away that Zeke asks, “Why don’t you drop by the house? My grandparents should be happy to see you again.”

“I… actually came from there. They asked me to stay. I hope you don’t mind,” you follow, and regret the words as soon as you say it. It’s like you’re trying to piss him off. “I’ll pay for my share of everything, of course.”

He doesn’t react with anger, but you were stupid to expect him to. “Oh?” he asks instead, managing the most sarcastic one-word question in existence. His voice has gotten so much deeper in the last six years, and somehow that makes it worse. “I would have expected the distinguished Miss Blanchard to prefer better accommodations by now.”

You resist the urge to wince. “Don’t say that. The Yeager household was like home to me for several years. More than home, sometimes.”

There’s a pause where only your footsteps, still in time with one another, are all you hear as you make your way down the empty hall. The thought of Zeke’s gaze right now shames you, but it’s ahead he’s looking when he lets out a whistle. “You’re making this difficult for me,” he laughs. “How can I kick you out after such high praise?”

Your last footfall echoes as you stop, reaching for his arm. “Zeke—”

He yanks it away without even looking at you. “We should head back before the Commander decides he wants something from me after all. Come on.”

Your face burns with humiliation even though there’s no one else around to watch him walk away, his long strides too fast for you to catch up.

* * *

The Yeagers are pleased to have you over for dinner and beyond, and though you already dropped by before making your appearance at HQ, Mrs. Yeager does not run out of subjects to discuss with you, updating you on several of your neighbors’ lives. Who has married, who has passed away, and whose children have joined the Warrior program themselves, only to fail. Zeke doesn’t talk except to comment on something his grandparents say, or very rarely something you say so as not to arouse their suspicion. They have none. They are too busy doting on you after your long, long absence.

After dinner, when your stomachs are full and your chest is light with laughter, you stand up to collect the dishes and bring them to the sink. “Absolutely not,” Mrs. Yeager says, realizing your intention once she hears the light clatter of tableware. “You’re our guest, Lucy!”

“Please,” you call from the sink. “I miss doing this with all of you around.”

Dr. Yeager sighs in agreement with his wife. “Not on your first night. Zeke.”

Zeke is already on his feet, leaving only everyone’s glasses as he makes his way to the sink with the placemats. Dr. Yeager has brought out their good wine to celebrate your return. “I can do this myself,” he tells you, trying to wave you aside. 

You don’t budge. “But I can help. We’ll get it all done more quickly.”

He levels a look at you—one you haven’t seen since you were very young, from before you were friends. “Sit with my grandmother, Lucy,” he murmurs so that only you hear. “Don’t make her crane her neck just to talk to you.”

Shame and something completely unfamiliar fill you at his reprimand, and you surrender with a nod. You make your way back to the table and squint at Mrs. Yeager. “Only tonight, though.”

Mrs. Yeager laughs, reaching for your hands across the table. You give them to her easily. “You’ve grown into such a beautiful young woman,” she says. “Your parents must be very proud of you.” You nod with some unease, and Dr. Yeager, even as he enjoys his wine, clears his throat. Mrs. Yeager realizes her mistake. “Ah—I...I’m sorry, dear. I know they passed away several years ago. But I’m sure they would be proud of you now.” 

“That’s all right,” you reassure her. “I hope it’s not too bold to say, but… you and Dr. Yeager were mother and father to me for a time as well, when they couldn’t be. I will always be grateful for that.”

“Oh, Lucy,” Mrs. Yeager smiles, her eyes quickly shining, “That isn’t bold at all. We felt the same way. We only wish you had written more!”

A scoff makes its way from the kitchen. “Grandma,” Zeke reminds her lightly, even as he scrubs the plates with renewed vigor, “you know Lucy has been _busy_.”

“I know that, dear, I wasn’t trying to—”

“No, it is my fault,” you agree. “I promise I’ll be better about that the next time I go.”

“Next time?” asks Dr. Yeager, suddenly sitting up straight. “Where are you going?”

You blink, turning your attention to him, and attempt to wave the confusion away with your hands. “No, no, Dr. Yeager, I’ll be staying here for a while. I only meant that for the next time I leave Lib—”

“ _Next time_?” Dr. Yeager repeats, his hand knocking over his wine glass as he eyes your left sleeve with intent. It trembles as he grasps at his scalp. “If you’re leaving, why aren’t you wearing your armband?”

The faucet shuts off, leaving only the sound of alcohol dripping from the dinner table to the floor, and Mrs. Yeager turns to him nervously. “Dear—”

“Don’t leave without your armband again, Faye,” he pleads, looking straight at you. He rises from his seat, voice more and more frantic as he swipes at a nearby cabinet with nothing to show for it. “Where is it? Where did you put it?”

Zeke is already wiping his hands on the hem of his shirt, and Mrs. Yeager goes to take her husband’s arm. “Darling, no, this is Lucy, remember?”

But Dr. Yeager is already heaving. It’s not long before tears are streaming down his face and he cries, “Why would you do this to me again? Why did he let you remove your armband, Faye?!”

“Dr. Yeager—I’m Lucy. _Lucy_ ,” you insist, hurrying over and tucking your hair behind your ears to show him your face, smiling as you’ve done many times in an attempt to calm him. You hold his arms, trying to jog him back to reality, but by now he is screaming and weeping, digging his fingers into your arms and repeatedly calling out his daughter’s name. 

“...Come on, grandpa.” Zeke pries Dr. Yeager’s hands from your sleeve with his grandmother’s help. Stunned by his sudden lapse, you can only watch—able to follow only when they are already struggling with him by the stairs. 

“Zeke—”

“Stay there,” he hisses with rancor that freezes you in place. Mrs. Yeager apologizes, but of course you shake your head and return to the dining room. Your hands shake as you clean the spilled alcohol from the dinner table and the floor, going over what you could have said to set off Dr. Yeager. 

This is hardly the first time you’ve seen him like this, but it used to take only very specific words to remind him of that event, and so much easier to bring him back from those memories. The memory of his weeping face seizes at your heart, tempting you to launch yourself upstairs and ask after him, but Zeke is right. You’ll only make things worse.

You’re getting started on the dishes again when you hear heavy footsteps plod down the stairs. 

Zeke. You cuff the faucet off, mouth already open when he smiles, reaching over to graze your exposed ear with his thumb and his index finger. “Did growing up damage your ears? I said I’d take care of the dishes.”

The unexpected contact sends a strange rush through you, but it’s the insult you focus on ignoring. Even if you do untuck your hair. “I’m sorry about Dr. Yeager.”

“It’s not your fault,” he shrugs. “It happens more often nowadays.”

“I didn’t know it had gotten so bad.”

“How could you? You’ve been away.”

You gnaw on your cheek at that. “I’m sorry, Zeke.”

For a moment, you finally see it—the recognition of the words you’ve been trying to say since you met earlier that afternoon, and the reason why. An eddy of hurt and confusion reflects in his eyes, pulling at the air around you. You want to rise above it, or else drown, or just beg for his forgiveness, but he knows you, or knew you as much as you knew him, and he cuts you off before you can speak. 

“You really have grown up.” His droll chuckle makes your heart sink into your stomach. “You never used to apologize for anything.”

You make a face. “That’s not true.”

“Maybe. You were pretty damn insolent when you wanted to be.”

“I guess I could be,” you murmur. Your eyes lift to his, on a tightrope’s edge. “Remember when Marras overheard me complaining about firearm maintenance?”

Zeke snorts. “Magath had you cleaning Warrior arsenal for a week.”

You can’t help but laugh. “That was awful. _Only_ Marcel snuck out to help me at night, and that was to impress Pieck. Thank you for that, by the way.”

“You’re welcome.”

You squint at him. Zeke grins, warmly now, and hope almost finds you—but your words catch up with you first, and both of you remember when you really are. 

“Marcel,” you can’t help but say with regret.

“Yeah.” Coursing a hand through his hair, Zeke brushes past you to the sink. “Anyway, I’ll take care of this. You go to bed. You have a meeting with Magath tomorrow—that’s why you came back, right?”

“No, not just—”

The sudden burst of running water from the faucet and the wall of his back means the conversation is over. Again. Clenching your fist, you bite your tongue and slowly breathe out your growing frustration. 

“Good night, then, Zeke.”

You’ve already gone up the stairs when Zeke swallows the lump in his throat, staring at the spoon splashing water upon his palm. He’s been washing it for the last two minutes. 

“Night, Lucy.”

* * *

Zeke has already left for HQ by the time you come downstairs the next morning. Dr. Yeager is still in bed, exhausted as he gets whenever he remembers his children, but Mrs. Yeager has prepared breakfast. Try as you might, you cannot resist sitting with her and sharing a meal together. You make it to the Liberio military headquarters just in time to hear the new Warrior instructor barking out to the children jogging around the courtyard.

You wander a little closer, unable to help your curiosity—but a nearby guard spots you and quickly corrals you away, back to the offices. “They’re expecting you,” he says, looking you over as he hands you back your permit. “Don’t know what top brass wants with a civilian, much less an Eldian, but...”

“Top brass?” 

The soldier almost sneers at you. _As if you don’t know, Eldian_ , it says, and you’re starting to think you actually don’t.

He’s led you not to the same conference room as yesterday afternoon, but to an office that you distinctly remember as _off-limits_. When the soldiers standing guard let you inside, you understand why.

Top brass is right. More than Commander Magath, there are a number of higher-ups waiting for you inside - some faces you’ve glimpsed since you were a child, and others you have seen as recently as months ago. One in particular stands out—an intelligence officer who reports directly to your brother. Three are generals at some of the highest levels in the army.

“Blanchard,” Magath calls out. You nearly stiffen at his voice again, but relax in time, to the chuckles of the men in the room. The commander ignores them, staring straight at you. You detect the slightest hint of an apology in his hardened gaze, or maybe that’s wishful thinking to keep your growing displeasure in check. “Glad you could make it.”

“Sir, I—”

A nearby general cuts you off. List. “You can dispense with that, Magath,” he says. “We’re all in the know here.”

“Yes, Sir.”

General List turns toward you. 

“Thank you for coming, Miss Tybur,” he says. There is no smile in his harsh features, but he is not unkind. Careful, maybe. “Please, sit. We have a proposition for you.”

**Author's Note:**

> So... yes! I admit, part of the reason I wanted to write something in the AoT/SnK series is because I loved and hated the addition of the Tyburs. So I wanted to write a little more about the family but also since I'm thirsty, write a Zeke fic and eventually a Levi one (whether AU or not). Obviously we'll eventually go into why the Tyburs would send one of their own into the Warrior program, among other things, but bear with me for now. 
> 
> Thank you for reading!


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